


Love and Hate (I Know Which You Mean)

by cloakoflevitation



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I only write happy endings, Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Brothers being little shits, Feelings, Fluff, Frigga's Actual A+ Parenting, Gen, Happy Ending, Heimdall is all around good, Loki deals with his heritage some, Loki-centric, Odin's A+ Parenting, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Thor (2011), Strictly brothers not romance here yall, The teen rating is because I swore exactly once but I just wanted to protect the innocents still, Thor-centric, all the fluff in the world, brothers being brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflevitation/pseuds/cloakoflevitation
Summary: So basically Loki escaped (somehow, not important to the plot) after The Avengers movie happens and is now just out picking fights with the Avengers. Odin dies. Thor and Loki go to Asgard and deal with his death. Thor becomes Allfather (but does he?).Very focused on Thor and Loki's brother dynamics (because I love some good family/brother/sister dynamics). They fight, they comfort, they tease etc. It's a good time.**Please be warned: one of the characters has an anxiety attack. They have a hard time breathing and feel super panicked. Another character is supportive and helps them breathe. It's nothing terribly intense (to me anyway) but just so we're all aware. Stay safe y'all. Take care of yourselves <3





	Love and Hate (I Know Which You Mean)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UmbraeCalamitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/gifts).



> @UmbraeCalamitas, you posted some nice comments on some of my other works and I really appreciated them so I thought I'd gift this to you! I hope you don't mind! <3

“Loki, _please_.”

The exasperation in Thor’s voice made him grin, all teeth. “But I’m having such fun,” he drawled, pleased to see Thor’s scowl deepen at his words.

“Yes, at the expense of the Midgardians.”

Loki looked around pointedly at the stoplights, which he had enchanted to swing around on their wires, only flashing green, and at the trash cans, which he had enchanted to explode into brightly colored confetti when anyone attempted to use them. “I hardly see the harm. No one is in any danger, and they are only Midgardians after all.”

He knew the reproach was coming before Thor even opened his mouth. “The Midgardians are not beneath us. They are different from us, but we are not better than them.”

“But we are different,” he stressed, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. “We are _gods_. Why shouldn’t we have some fun?”

“Why does your ‘fun’ always come at the expense of someone else?” Thor’s voice was hard and firm. He held his arms up. “Look around you. You’ve plagued these people enough. The Midgardians are fragile, simple. Leave them be.”

Loki glanced around them, watching Midgardians in their stopped vehicles yell at each other at intersections without working lights. He watched a child run screaming from an exploding trash can and an elderly man brush confetti from the top of his head.

“This,” Thor gestured at the chaos around them, drawing his attention back to him. “This does not make you a god. It makes you a monster.”

His eyes widened, and Thor winced. “A poor choice of words –” he rushed to explain, but Loki cut him off.

“No, _brother_.” His tone was icy. “Thank you for the reminder, lest I forget my _true_ nature.” He clenched his fists, shaking slightly, and the remaining trashcans exploded. He scarcely noticed. “Odin must be so proud of you,” he hissed, making the insult clear, “Because _you_ are just like him.”

“Loki–”

He disappeared in a shimmer of light, teleporting to his hideaway. It was a small house in roughly nowhere (and Midgard had plenty of places like that to disappear among), hidden from Heimdall and Odin’s sight and any mortal’s curiosity by extensive warding.

Looking down at his arm, he let his glamor fade to reveal blue skin. He watched the hue spread from his fingertips up his arm, followed by the strange markings of the frost giants. He sucked in an unsteady breath, before restoring the glamor.

_I am Loki ~~of Asgard~~._

_I am Loki ~~of Jotunheim~~._

_I am Loki ~~son of Laufey~~ , ~~son of Odin~~ , son of Frigga._

_I am Loki brother of –_

_I am Loki._

_I am…_

He let go of his control on his magic, allowing his pent-up rage to spread in circles around him, sending objects flying into walls. He hurled fire at his furniture; he summoned daggers and threw them into the walls. In the back of his mind, he heard Frigga reprimand him for throwing a tantrum like a child, but his anger drowned out her voice.

When he was done, he panted hard, surveying the destruction around him. It wasn’t enough. It never was. Nothing was ever enough to stop the madness he felt inside.

_Who am I?_

How dare Thor call him a monster, knowing his heritage, knowing his fear that he _was_ a monster _._ That he was the nightmare parents told their children about.

Thor was golden and faultless – at least in the eyes of Odin (and that was all that mattered) – and for him to say something so cruel, so thoughtless…

A tiny part of him wondered if it had been more than just an insensitive insult. What if Thor truly thought that of him? What if Thor truly saw him as his enemy, an enemy of Asgard? As a Jotun? As a _monster?_

The thought put a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He had certainly made enough mistakes, committed enough crimes to earn the title ‘enemy’. He tried so hard, to be perfect, to be worthy, to be even merely good enough. Somehow he always fell short. He was always an afterthought, the family disappointment, hidden in Thor’s shadow.

He needed to hit something.

He teleported on instinct back to the street he had left Thor and the Avengers on, and found they were still there, assisting SHIELD with the mess left behind.

Stark spotted him first. “And here I thought we weren’t going to dance today, Reindeer Games.” He flew towards him in his suit of armor, firing a beam of energy at him from his palm.

Loki teleported, letting the beam pass through the space where he had been, and kept striding towards Thor.

“On your 7, Cap,” Barton called, firing an arrow in his direction.

He held up a hand, opening a pocket dimension for the arrow to fly into while simultaneously opening another pocket for the arrow to reappear out of, straight into the Captain’s shoulder.

“Odinson,” he crooned, letting a vicious Cheshire grin spread across his face. “Surely you won’t let these… animals… fight your battles for you.”

Thor waved his teammates off, beginning to walk towards him. “Don’t do this,” he asked grimly. “Talk with me. Let me explain–”

“Oh I think you’ve explained enough,” Loki bit back, feeling hysteria rising in his chest, threatening to drown him.

“Then I’ll let you explain,” Thor quickly countered. “There is much we could discuss…”

He threw a dagger that Thor easily dodged. “We have _nothing_ to discuss because you are _incapable_ of listening.”

“Then why have you come back?”

His lips curled, and he found a twisted happiness in the way Thor’s face fell. “Isn’t it obvious?” He held up a hand, letting magic glow bright green in his palm. “I’ve come for a fight.”

Thor gingerly touched Mjolnir where she hung at his waist. He sighed. “Then so be it.”

The air around them crackled, and he knew it was from more than just tension. Thor held Mjolnir above his head, and Loki took the opportunity to throw two more daggers. Thor dodged one, but the second grazed him.

He sent a bolt of lightning towards him. It hit his chest, knocking him back several feet. He fell to a knee, breathing hard.

Thor implored him, “Will you not –”

“No!” Loki roared, back on his feet in a moment. “Fight me!” He summoned his magic, creating a dozen clones all around him. Thor threw Mjolnir, sending her through several, dissolving the clones as she touched them.

He had the clones distract Thor as he came up from behind him. Thor punched one clone, dissolving it, and held his hand aloft for Mjolnir’s return. Loki stabbed him from behind with a knife, leaving the small shard of metal stuck in his side. Thor listed to the right, and Loki deftly stepped to the left, Mjolnir flying between them, continuing to hurtle off into space when Thor didn’t grab her.

Thor grunted and pulled the knife from his abdomen, swiping at Loki with it. His movements were slow, sluggish, and he pressed a hand to his side.

“Getting slow in your old age?” Loki taunted.

Thor’s eyes narrowed slightly and he came for Loki again, much quicker. He caught his cheek, leaving a bleeding gash under one of his eyes. He dropped the knife to the ground, ducking as Loki swung for him.

Loki kicked a foot out, knocking Thor to the ground. He winced before quickly getting back up, catching Loki’s side with his fist. Loki stumbled back a moment, stunned from the force. They wrestled a few moments more, each giving and receiving some heavy hits before Thor held out his hand, calling Mjolnir back to him once more.

“You’ve had your fun now. Enough.”

Loki ran at him, shoving him backwards a few steps. He grabbed Thor’s breastplate on either side, shaking him roughly. “My fun?” He ignored the thunder that rolled across the sky and ignored Mjolnir’s impending return. “Have you been _humoring_ me?”

Thor knocked his hands away, giving him a hard push back. Loki stumbled back, equally because of the force and because of disbelief. “You came to fight. We’ve fought. Enough is enough.”

Before Loki could decide how he felt about that, Thor snatched Mjolnir from the air, and stalked towards him. In a matter of seconds, he pinned him against a building, pressing Mjolnir against his chest, giving him a long searching look. “Loki…” It was a warning and an apology and a prayer. His voice held all the things he was trying to say, but it was too little too late.

“I hate you,” he spat, just to watch Thor flinch.

“I know.”

Thor pressed Mjolnir more firmly against his chest–

–and suddenly was falling into the wall. Loki laughed gleefully from behind him, firmly jabbing a dagger into his side. “Coated in a poison from Alfheim,” he informed him with cheer. _“Do_ give Odin my regards when the healers have patched you up.”

Thor wheezed, a horrible gasping sound slipping from his throat as he clutched his side. Mjolnir lay on the ground where he had dropped her. “And mother?” he questioned Loki in a shaky voice, as pulled his hand away, finding it sticky with blood, before quickly pressing it back around the wound. His voice was barely a gasp, as he struggled to get the words out. “What of her?”

 _Damn Thor_. A wave of regret washed over him. He could see in his mind the disapproving look Frigga would give him for what he had done. He could hear the lecture; her tone would be quiet with condemnation.

It was too much. His anger finally fizzled out, leaving only an emptiness in its place.

“Frigga,” he said roughly, forcing the words out. “Give Frigga… give her my love.” He opened his mouth to say something else, before shutting it, shaking his head. There was nothing he could say, no apology he could make that would suffice. He was in far too deep now, too far gone. He swallowed roughly, weariness settling deep in his bones.

_What have I done?_

The sudden realization hit him that Thor was dying. _Dying._ Right in front of him. _And it was his doing._

“Heimdall!” He called loudly, giving a hollow smile at Thor’s surprised look. He teleported away before Heimdall could summon him to Asgard along with Thor via the Bifrost.

*

Two weeks later, Loki could stand it no more. Something had been bubbling under his skin, crawling around inside his mind, eating into his thoughts. He had adamantly refused to put a name to the feeling. It was _not_ worry, and it was _certainly not_ guilt.

When he heard the Avengers were in a fight, he teleported to the edges of the battle, keeping himself invisible. He watched as the Avengers eventually caught their enemy, Barton and Romanoff leading them away to other waiting SHIELD agents. Rogers and Stark started a heated debate that Loki could still hear muffled pieces of, even after they walked into a plane of some kind. The Hulk slowly changed back into Banner, and Thor offered him his cape. Banner accepted it with mumbled thanks.

“What happened?”

“You fought well.”

The praise made Banner frown. “I don’t – it’s not me that I worry about.”

Thor patted his shoulder, offering him a tight smile. “You are a good man, Bruce.”

Banner smiled, but it was twisted, more of a grimace than anything, and Loki could tell he didn’t believe him. “I hurt someone, didn’t I?”

Thor didn’t answer. “Get some rest.”

Banner nodded stiffly. Pulling Thor’s cape tighter around his shoulders, he started to walk towards the plane.

Thor sat down heavily in the grass, exhaustion evident in his posture. “Show yourself,” he said. Loki froze; surely Thor didn’t mean him. But after an expectant pause, Thor continued, tiredly, “I know you’re here, Loki.”

Banner glanced back over his shoulder, looking alarmed, but Thor waved him off. After Banner was out of earshot, Loki made himself visible, standing a few feet in front of Thor. He was shocked that he knew he was there, but he didn’t let it show. He drawled, “At last, you begin to learn.”

Thor just sighed, running a hand across his face, not rising to the taunt in his tone. “Not today, Loki, please. I’m tired.”

The lack of emotion in his voice set his nerves on edge. Thor was many things, but apathetic was not one of them.

He glanced towards Banner, who disappeared into the plane. Rogers and Stark appeared at the opening. Rogers was gesturing wildly towards him and Thor, but Stark shook his head. He turned back to his brother, struggling to decide what to say, to figure out why he had come in the first place. “I see you survived the poison.”

“Have you come to try again then?”

Perhaps it was his deadpan delivery or perhaps it was something else entirely, but Loki paused. He took a few steps until he was standing next to Thor, who tensed, and then sat down beside him.

“Not today, Thor. I’m tired.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitched, as though he thought about smiling. “Loki…” He sighed again, looking down at his hands in his lap. He was silent for several long minutes, as Loki kept an eye out for the Avengers or any SHIELD agents brave enough to approach.

When Thor eventually looked back up at him, any traces of a smile were gone from his face. “Why are you here?”

If only he knew himself. He deflected, “Why shouldn’t I be?” At Thor’s unimpressed look, he grinned, “We fought side by side once. Why should I not check on my poor brother now?” He reached out, as if to pat one of Thor’s cheeks, but he turned his head away. He didn’t laugh.

“Loki.” His voice sounded grave, a stark contrast to the sickly-sweet tone Loki had teased him with. “Odin is unwell.”

He frowned and crossed his arms and answered, dryly, “ _Shocking_.”

“He is dying.” Thor didn’t look upset, but thunder rolled around them, the air suddenly crackling with energy. Lightning struck the ground several feet away.

His gaze snapped to Thor’s, piercing. “Control your temper,” he warned. “We are not children anymore."

Thor closed his eyes for a long moment and then repeated, “Odin is dying.” Emotion, bright and sudden, crossed his face, outwardly visible for the first time since he arrived. Thor was _scared_. “He has dismissed the council –”

“– _what_ –”

“–and sent away the ambassadors. He means to go to war.”

His mouth fell open, as he blinked at Thor. “ _War?_ With _whom?”_

“Anyone. Everyone.” He sighed. “He’s paranoid. He’s been avoiding his Odinsleep for far too long, and I fear for… for Asgard, for Midgard, for all the realms.” His voice was bitter, but there was sorrow in his eyes when he looked away. His voice was fragile, so fragile when he continued, “Frigga says he doesn’t have long.”

A heavy silence settled over them. Loki reeled, shocked by everything he had told him.

 _Odin? Dying?_ The thought seemed unimaginable. Odin would live to see the end of all worlds, if by nothing but pride and stubbornness alone. And yet… and yet he was dying.

Part of him was pleased that Odin’s rule would finally come to an end. Part of him was distraught. And part of him hated himself for caring. It seemed after all this time, he still craved Odin’s affections, craved his approval. _Pitiful._

He was brought back to reality when Thor nudged his knee. His eyes were wide and solemn, an emptiness in them that frightened him. “Why are you here now? I know you haven’t come to watch me fight.”

He shook his head, the breath trapped in his lungs. “I shouldn’t have come.” He stood up, his mind spinning, and brushed the grass from his cape so his hands had something to do. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Thor watched him carefully. “If you want to see Odin… before he –”

“No,” Loki cut him off bluntly. “No.” Thor looked up at him from the ground, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the little boy Thor once was, too afraid to walk the darkened hallways of the palace alone. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I was once so sure… And now…”

“Alright.” He nodded, mostly to himself, and stuck his hand out for Thor to take.

“What’s this?”

“Take it before I change my mind.” Loki pulled him up to his feet, and then grabbed both his shoulders. “You are the crown prince. Today, you can be lost, but soon Asgard will call.” He moved his hand up, grasping the back of Thor’s neck, pulling them closer together, his eyes locked on Thor’s. “You must be sure then. You will be king.”

He hesitated only a heartbeat, but Thor had no response. So he dropped his hands, starting to walk away. After a few steps, he called his name.

“Frigga sends her love.”

Loki turned to look over his shoulder, the shocking weight of the latest news of Odin momentarily eclipsed by the reminder of what he had done the last time he saw Thor. When he had stabbed him with a _poisoned dagger_.

He held himself perfectly still, cautious of what Thor would do or say next. To his surprise, he had the ghost of a smile on his face. It was barely there, but it was a far cry from the anger, the disappointment he had expected Thor to have for this topic.

“She asks that you join her for tea.”

After a pause, he gave a smile of his own in return, but it was a sad one. They were both aware of his status. He was disinherited. He was unwelcome, _unwanted_ on Asgard, unless it was in one of the dungeon cells.

“Be well, Thor.”

Thor nodded, and then the world dissolved into light as Loki teleported away.

*

When Loki arrived, he nearly toppled over because of the wind. “Thor,” he yelled, surprised he could hear himself at all over the torrential downpour. He stalked towards Thor, now completely soaked and furious. By the time he was close enough to enter the area untouched by the storm that surrounded him, his brother finally noticed him.

The winds died down, and the rain lessened to a steady drizzle. “Loki. I’m glad you came.” Despite his words, his voice was somber, and he was frowning.

He made a point of squeezing the water out of his hair, throwing Thor a pointed glare. “Be glad I monitor the mortal news,” he grumbled. “ ‘Freak storm near Avengers training compound,’ ” he said in a nasally voice, imitating the mortal newscasters. Whereas they had _suggested_ Thor might be the cause, Loki had _known_ he was.

“How else was I to summon you?” Thor demanded crossly. “You hide yourself away.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, dispelling the water from his clothes with his magic. “Because I am a wanted fugitive on Asgard! Or has that fact slipped your idiotic mind?” As the words left his mouth, he knew he had gone past merely defending himself and landed closer to insulting, but he couldn’t help it. He had barely arrived, and already Thor was upset with him. Whatever the cause of his foul mood, he wanted no part in it. “What do you want?”

The anger bled out of Thor’s face. His fingers tangled in his cape, until he was holding fistfuls. “It’s Odin.”

Loki raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Already? It’s scarcely been a day. Surely even Odin can’t start a war so fast.”

“No… Loki…” Thor looked at him and suddenly he _knew_.

“Oh.” The corners of his mouth twitched, and he felt what might have been tears forming in his eyes. He resolutely squashed that course of action. “He’s…?”

Thor nodded, confirming it. “Odin’s dead.”

“I didn’t… I assumed… I thought we would have more time.” Thor nodded miserably in agreement. Part of Loki felt empty and a part of him felt… indifferent. As though nothing had happened. He was in shock, he decided.

The thought was bewildering.

Thor had told him Odin was dying yesterday, but it still seemed… an impossibility. His mind still hadn’t accepted that it was even something that might come to pass, let alone so soon. Odin was not the sort that died. It was ridiculous, Loki knew, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

He looked over at Thor, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Are you,” he waited until he had his attention to continue. “Are you… alright?”

Thor let out a harsh breath, as though it was ripped from his lungs. “Our father is dead. How could I be?”

He restrained himself from correcting _your father_. He instead reached a hand out, to put on Thor’s shoulder, to hug him, to offer some kind of comfort, but he turned away, pulling himself out of Loki’s grasp.

“I’ll be fine. I have to be.”

“Thor…”

“Leave it,” Thor growled in warning, and Loki sighed but let it go. And then, before he could do anything, Thor shouted up to the sky, “Heimdall!” and the Bifrost enveloped them.

As the bright colors flashed around him, Loki swore curses in his mind. If he survived this, he would _murder_ Thor.

They blinked into existence in the observatory, Heimdall standing at the center, pulling his sword from the Bifrost’s mechanisms.

He looked around the observatory, the gold in the walls glittering from the light of the Bifrost. The last time he had been in Asgard, he had fought Thor on the bridge and fallen into the Void.

His mind was a swirl of emotions. It was overwhelming to be back where he was raised. Back home. He felt sick.

“Thor,” Heimdall greeted him solemnly, before his gaze narrowed and slid over to Loki. “Loki.” He motioned with his fingers, and two of the palace guard stepped forward from where they stood at the wall. “Chain him.”

Summoning daggers, he took a defensive stance as the guards raised their spears and marched towards him. A third guard stood behind them, holding up shackles. But before a fight could break out, Thor stepped in front of him.

“That’s enough,” Thor said fiercely, and Loki decided perhaps he would not murder him, if they both lived through this. “We are here to _mourn_.” The viciousness, the accusation in his tone surprised even Loki.

He stepped out from behind Thor, unwilling to be hidden or discussed.

Heimdall raised his eyebrows. “He is no longer a prince. He has committed several crimes –”

“I don’t care,” Thor retorted, fiery and short. “Odin is gone and he is my brother and he _will_ walk freely by my side.” He turned from Heimdall to the guards. “If you take another step, I will knock you off your feet.”

One of the guards looked at Thor with wide eyes, and Loki thought his spear trembled as he lowered it, setting the end on the ground beside him.

The other guard frowned and lowered his spear as well. He put his arm across his chest, a closed fist over his heart. “Of course.” The other two guards quickly mimicked the gesture, showing their own loyalty. The same guard spoke again. “We serve at your command, Allfather.”

“Allfath– ”, the broken word was little more than a horrified whisper, and then Thor was falling.

Loki caught him from the side, holding him up, awkwardly maneuvering him until he had his arms wrapped around his middle, Thor’s arms thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. In all the chaos of the storm and hearing of Odin’s death and Thor calling Heimdall for the Bifrost, Loki had forgotten that Thor would be king now. He knew, of course, but he hadn’t given any thought to it, still reeling from the reality that Odin was truly… gone. And neither had Thor considered his new title, it seemed, for him to react so poorly upon hearing it for the first time.

Somewhere behind him Loki heard Heimdall dismiss the guards. Their footsteps sounded soft compared to Thor’s shuddering breaths against his neck.

“Thor,” he said quietly, hugging him tighter against him. “You are Allfather now. Odin is dead. You know the line of succession. You were the crown prince.” He paused, and then added, “You were the only prince, after all.”

He was hoping for a chuckle, at the implication that had there been any other princes, Thor might not have been chosen as the heir, but Thor whimpered instead. His voice was unbearably soft and small. “I _can’t_ be Allfather.”

Had it been years before, when he was still a prince and still ignorant of certain truths, the words might have pleased Loki and offered him a path to the throne. But now he just sighed. “Nonetheless,” he murmured, “You are.” Thor still said nothing, so he prompted, “Asgard needs you.”

Thor was quiet for a long time, clinging to him. His breathing slowly calmed. “Let’s go see mother.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, but it sounded like one.

“Of course,” Loki reassured him.

Heimdall watched them with a calm, unreadable mask, standing still as ever, holding his sword. “The guards will escort you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Thor said quickly.

Heimdall’s gaze softened, as he explained, “The guards will keep you from being disturbed.”

Thor looked away, mumbling, “Thank you.”

They started to walk towards the archway, but Heimdall stopped them.

“Thor, Loki is still a criminal.” Thor’s shoulders rose at the words, but Heimdall disregarded the defensive gesture, continuing in a calm voice, “But if you should want to pardon him, it is now within your power to do so.”

Thor glanced briefly in Loki’s direction before turning back to Heimdall. “I pardon him and restore his title as prince.” (Loki firmly ignored the warmth that flooded his chest at that.)

Thor cleared his throat, taking a moment to compose himself. “Are we expecting anyone else?”

“The ambassador to Nidavellir and their dignitaries have yet to arrive, along with the Vanir royal family. Everyone else is here.”

He stood up slightly straighter, and when he spoke, his voice was stronger and firmer. “When they have arrived, come to the palace. Meet with the council and officialize Loki’s return.”

“Very well,” Heimdall bowed his head slightly.

They started to walk again. As they crossed the archway, Thor suddenly turned around once more. “Heimdall?” He laid a hand on Loki’s shoulder, and met Heimdall’s gaze with gratitude. “Thank you.”

The edges of Heimdall’s lips pulled up in the faintest of grins. “I serve at your command.”

Thor turned back, letting his hand fall from Loki’s shoulder, and they set off down the bridge together.

*

The closer they got to the palace, the more people began to stare and whisper. One or two dared come forward, only to be turned away by the guards. Most of the Asgardians looked at them with sorrow-filled glances. Parents pulled their children close, whispering softly.

Loki and Thor continued their dirge-like march towards the gates. The guards there gave Loki a strange look, but silently let them pass. The guards that had been escorting them dismissed themselves, turning back towards the Bifrost.

“Are you glad to be home?”

The question startled Loki. He glanced at Thor, and then back to the palace around them. He shrugged. He didn’t know how to answer.

They went further down the entrance way, turning off down the familiar hallway to the throne room. There were no guards at the doors. He exchanged a glance with Thor, who frowned.

“She probably wanted to be alone.”

Loki ran a hand across the gilded doors, pushing them open gently.

Frigga sat at the top of the steps, next to the throne. Her head was in her hands, but she looked up as they pushed the doors completely open. She stood up quickly, gathering the layers of her skirts in her hands as she made her way down the steps.

They met her at the bottom. She smiled warmly at them both, despite the tears in her eyes. She looked them up and down, before opening her arms to Loki first.

He hadn’t realized he was hesitating until then. And he hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her until he felt her arms around him.

She pulled back and smiled, putting a hand to his cheek. “I’m so glad you’ve come home.” She turned from him then to Thor, who all but collapsed into her arms. “Oh Thor…”

Loki heard him whisper, “They called me Allfather.”

For a few moments, she ran her hands across his back in a soothing gesture. Then she slowly untangled herself from the embrace and reached up to hold his face in her hands. “You are Allfather now.”

Thor’s eyes were wide. “What if I can’t be?”

“Thor…” Loki started, but Frigga interrupted him.

“You were raised to be king,” she started, before looking left towards him. “You both were.” He looked away. “The throne falls to you, Thor. Asgard needs you. But,” she dropped her hands from his cheeks and turned to face the throne regretfully. “I watched your father…”

She looked away for a moment, blinking quickly. Her voice sounded like a prayer in the throne room, the way her words echoed off the high ceilings. “I watched him suffer under the weight of ruling. I watched him choose between being a king and being a father or a husband or a friend.” She sighed, before turning back to Thor. “Today, we mourn. We will worry about the throne tomorrow.

Loki and Thor exchanged curious looks, but Frigga was beckoning them away, speaking before they could ask what exactly she had meant. “Come and see Odin.”

They followed obediently behind her. Her footsteps echoed in the throne room and then down the hallway, the swishing of her skirts a subtle accompaniment. The halls were otherwise silent and still. There were no whispers, no court members passing the other direction. Loki supposed everyone was giving them time to grieve.

Frigga stopped outside of the chamber Odin would sleep in during his Odinsleep. She took a deep breath and pushed open the doors. The lights were low in the room, but lying in the casket, Odin was surrounded by light.

Loki couldn’t help but remark, “He looks as though he’s sleeping.”

He thought he saw tears on Thor’s cheeks again. “I wish he _had_ slept more. Then he might still be here.”

Frigga stepped closer, reaching into the light to hold Odin’s hands with hers. “Everyone dies, Thor,” she sighed. “Even if he hadn’t put off his Odinsleep, he would have been here soon.” She looked over her shoulder, encouraging them gently, “You can come closer if you want.”

They both stepped closer, but neither made any moves to touch him as she had.

Odin’s hands were folded across his stomach, Frigga’s hands resting on top his. He was dressed in his normal court attire, all gold, and his ceremonial armor. Loki thought he looked as though he had lost weight, his cheeks less full than he remembered. But otherwise, he looked the same as ever. With his eyes closed and his expression neutral, he truly did look like he was only asleep. He didn’t look dead.

Frigga brushed the pad of her thumbs over his fingers. Her voice was quiet, just as Loki and Thor’s had been moments before, as if they were all afraid to wake Odin. “He asked after you both. He worried about you these past weeks.”

Thor made a choked noise, and Loki decided those _were_ tears he saw. “I should have come home. I should have been here – when he – when…” Thor took a shuddering breath and turned around. “I can’t – I –” He left the room, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the doorway.

Frigga stared out into the hallway after him for a long time, and Loki was afraid to say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to feel.

“He wanted to see you, Loki, one last time.”

Loki closed his eyes at Frigga’s words, careful to keep his anger controlled. It was not Frigga he was upset with.

Everything was so confusing. He hated Odin, but now he felt guilty. Because Odin was dead. Everyone mourned, and he did as well, but it felt wrong, given all that had happened between them. Everything felt wrong.

“He wanted to reconcile. He loved you, Loki. He always did.” He wasn’t sure if Frigga was trying to convince him or herself, but it just wasn’t _fair._ Odin was gone. He _hadn’t_ reconciled with Loki. What he _had_ done was let Loki stay a wanted fugitive up until the moment he had died. If Odin had wanted to reconcile, he should have let Loki come back and allowed him a place in Asgard that wasn’t in chains.

_It wasn’t fair._

Loki flinched back, his eyes flying open when he felt Frigga touch his arm. There was so much love and so much sadness in her eyes. He let her hug him.

“It’s not fair.” His voice didn’t seem to work quite right, and he realized belatedly he was crying. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“He had to choose between the throne and all else.” Loki could feel the slight vibration of her voice against his chest and against the side of his neck. He felt safe, in her arms. “It was a burden I don’t wish for Thor or you to carry.”

He held her for as long as she needed (and perhaps he needed it too). When she pulled back, her hands trailed down his arms, then back up to his shoulders. She smoothed the fabric of his cape and straightened the front of his tunic. She sighed and gave him a gentle smile. “You’ve grown up so much.”

He grinned half-heartedly. “It’s not been even half a decade.”

“Oh Loki.” Her voice was fond as she shook her head, amused at his misunderstanding. She moved her hand to rest it over his heart. “ _Inside_. You’re no longer a boy. I’m so _proud_ of who you are.”

He might not have had Odin’s approval the last few centuries, but right then, he realized it didn’t matter at all. He had always had Frigga’s love. Where Odin had been more of a king than a father, Frigga had always been his mother first. She was proud of him. And that was enough. Norns, that was more than enough for him. Frigga’s love, Frigga’s pride, those what were truly mattered. And he had those.

She turned back to the casket, unaware of how deeply she had just touched him. “The sendoff will be at dusk.” Her voice grew stronger. “Our guests will pay their respects before. I had proper dress set out for you and your brother. Please make sure you’re both ready.”

He watched her stand at Odin’s side, the light from the casket giving her a golden glow. She had been there, standing at Odin’s side for several millennia now. And while Loki knew she had disagreed with Odin some, Frigga had loved him. “Will you be alright?”

“Oh, I’ll change in a while. I was wearing this yesterday and I just haven’t…Well I haven’t…”

“Mother,” he repeated with slightly more emphasis, so she might understand this time. “Will you be _alright?”_

When she realized what he meant, she smiled softly. “Yes, dear. Thank you. I just want a few moments more with him. Go see about Thor.”

Loki nodded and left. He paused outside the doorway, taking a step back and leaning around the doorframe to peer in again. Frigga had knelt next to the casket, her elbows propped up on the edges as she cried into her arms. He left without a sound.

*

Resisting the urge to go straight to his rooms, Loki did as Frigga asked and went to check on Thor. He found him in his bedroom lying in the center of the floor. For the briefest moment, panic constricted his chest. He was at Thor’s side in an instant, crouching next to him, reaching for him, only to hear him snore.

He sat back on his feet, letting out a shaky chuckle. Thor was only sleeping.

When he could no longer hear his racing heart thudding in his ears, he stood up, nudging Thor’s side with his foot.

“Go away,” he heard Thor grumble, his words distorted, still partly asleep.

He conjured a vase of water from the kitchen. “Don’t make me pour this on you.”

Thor rolled over, his face pressed into the rug on the floor, and threw his arms over his head. He said something Loki couldn’t understand into the rug.

Grinning, he slowly tipped the water out, letting it hit Thor’s hands and the back of his neck. He jumped up on his feet immediately, eyes wide and blank. “Water,” was his intelligent response.

He laughed, sending the vase back to the kitchens. He looked around the room, finally finding the clothes Frigga had mentioned on the side of Thor’s bed.

“Frigga set out what she wants you to wear. You should get dressed.”

When he turned to look back at Thor, instead of anger or irritation, he saw sadness etched across his face. “Loki,” Thor murmured, “That was cold.” He looked only a breath away from crying again, and Loki knew it had nothing to do with the water.

He made a show of rolling his eyes but opened his arms. Thor shuffled towards him, laying his head on Loki’s shoulder. Loki just held him.

“I think I’ve hugged you more in the last day than I have all the days before.” Which wasn’t true. They both knew it. But he meant for it to lighten the mood.

It earned him a startled laugh from Thor. “You must be growing soft then. Is that _sentiment?”_

He resisted the urge to tackle him as he pulled back from the embrace. He resigned himself to merely quipping back, “If I leave, can you manage to dress yourself?”

“I can dress myself better than you.” Thor missed the unimpressed look he shot him, his back turned as he walked towards the clothes set out for him. “ _I_ at least am aware of a _range_ of colors.”

“Two!” Loki insisted in mock outrage. “You dress in _two_ colors, same as I do!”

Thor’s expression grew somber, and he held up a black cloak. “I suppose we’ll dress in only one tonight.”

He looked away and sighed. “I’ll change and be back.”

Thor nodded absently, his downcast mood returning. Feeling useless, he left Thor to change.

His rooms were next to Thor’s, down the hall. In the first room were several chairs and tables, a space to entertain guests, should he have any. It had been kept clean, he could tell. No dust sat on any surface he saw, and the windows had been opened, letting in the air outside. He twisted his hand, magicking the glass panes shut.

Stepping into the next room, he found his books and papers strewn haphazardly across his desk (as he had most likely left them). A set of daggers were laying on the top shelf of a bookcase, the handles still sticking out over the edge. One of his cloaks was laid across the back of his chair.

His gaze narrowed in on a target board he had hung on the wall. He had used the board to practice his aim with a type of throwing star, small and four-pointed, that he had been given some time ago by an old friend on Alfheim. He hadn’t used the target board in centuries. What surprised him was one of his favorite daggers, his first one in fact, was sticking out of the board.

Frowning, Loki yanked it out, looking down at it for a moment in his hand. Someone had been in his rooms, clearly, and had moved the dagger. The thought of someone riffling through his belongings, moving things around, and touching what was his made his skin crawl.

He placed the dagger back on his desk, where he normally kept it. As he started to walk towards his bedroom, he picked up the cloak thrown over the back of the chair, intending to set it with his other clothes. But as he picked it up, he realized it wasn’t one of his cloaks.

He shook it, letting the wrinkles fall out, and held it up by the shoulders. It was a bit too stiff. Holding it up to the light, he noticed delicate strands of gold thread running through the purple fabric. It was Thor’s cloak, he realized.

Thor had sat in his chair.

Thor had held his dagger.

_Thor had been in his rooms._

He fleetingly wondered _why_ , but then, the image of Thor, sitting at his desk, holding onto his childhood dagger, surrounded by all of his things, he realized there was really only one explanation (or at least only one knowing it was Thor). The idiot had missed him.

Something tightened in his chest. He had known, of course, that Thor would miss him. Thor was mad at him, sure, frustrated with his actions, but he was loyal too. They were brothers, and he knew Thor cared for him. But to see the evidence of that care before him… To think of Thor sitting alone in his room, surrounded by his things…

He gently laid the cloak back over the chair and marched through the doorway, firmly refusing to give it anymore thought.

Clothes were laid out on the foot of his bed, appearing similar to what he had seen in Thor’s room.

He carefully unhooked his cape, and then removed his armor, piece by piece. He wasn’t wearing his helmet or any of the rest of his metal armor, but he did have on several leather pieces that he had enchanted. He stripped the rest of his clothes off quickly, before starting to pull on the ones Frigga wanted him to wear. Black leggings, black tunic, black overcoat, black cloak. Everything was black.

Sending his armor to a pocket dimension, he ran a hand through his hair. He wondered how it looked. In the bathroom, he stepped around the bath to look into the mirror. With his dark hair and darker clothes, he looked… grim. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself to be Death. He sighed and ran some water, wetting his fingers and coaxing his hair to do as he wanted it.

When he was finished, he walked back towards Thor’s rooms. The hallways were quiet, still no sign of any of the servants. He found Thor in his bedroom, pulling a tunic on over his head. He had just finished his first layer of black.

“Getting slow in your old age, brother?”

Thor looked over his shoulder but didn’t respond, picking up another piece of clothing from the bed. He put his arms through the sleeves of his coat, before finally turning and giving him his full attention as he started to chuckle.

“What?” Thor asked sharply. When he didn’t answer immediately, Thor demanded, “What is it? Fix me.”

His collar was tucked in underneath the rest of his overcoat, making Thor’s shoulders look unusually lumpy. He walked over to him and reached up around his neck to pull the collar out from under the layer of fabric. He sat on the edge of the bed when he was done, still smirking.

“I couldn’t see it there,” Thor grumbled. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a child. I _can_ dress myself.”

Loki nodded sagely, eyes comically wide. “Oh of course you can.”

Thor gave him a highly unimpressed look.

“Don’t forget your cloak!”

He attempted to dodge the shoe thrown in his direction and ended up tumbling off the end of the bed. He looked up, irritated, to see Thor smiling, his eyes alight with humor. “Not a word,” he warned sharply. Thor’s grin only widened, but he offered him a hand up.

“Let’s go find Frigga,” he grumbled, but for once, Thor’s spirits remained bright.

*

The throne room buzzed with quiet voices and perpetual whispers from somewhere behind them. Thor and Loki slowly made their way towards Frigga, at the base of the throne, and the crowds of court members and foreign rulers and ambassadors stepped aside, giving them a wide berth.

Frigga looked elegant, as he had been certain she would. Her hair was pinned back, a black sash draped delicately across her shoulders. Her dress was a deep gold, Odin’s color, but the black cloak around her shoulders hid much of her skirts from view, dulling down the brightness. She was speaking to another lady that he couldn’t see, her back facing him, but Frigga’s expression made him think their conversation was of something important.

Thor nudged his shoulder, pointing his attention towards Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. They stood, dressed in black underneath their ceremonial armor, offering both princes sympathetic looks. When Sif’s eyes met his, she frowned slightly, clearly displeased to see him, but mindful of the environment they were in. He found he didn’t mind though. It was strangely comforting in a way, to find that some things had remained the same in the years he had been gone. It was familiar, and the familiarity was a comfort.

When they reached Frigga, the other lady she had been conversing with turned around. “Nephews,” she greeted them, smiling slightly at the surprise on their faces.

“Freya!” Thor hugged her tightly, before pulling back, mindful of the whispers and stares he caused. He straightened his spine and lowered his voice. “I was unaware you would be joining us.”

Freya exchanged a glance with Frigga that Loki couldn’t decipher. “Your mother called,” was the only response she gave to Thor’s comment. A moment later she dismissed herself, disappearing into the masses of whispering people.

Frigga ushered Loki and Thor into place next to her, explaining that now the guests would file past, offering their condolences and sympathies.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the upper echelon of the realms clasped their arms and offered tight smiles and even hugs from some. A few of the elder ladies took his face in their hands, their cold fingers digging into his cheeks as they talked with him of all manner of things that he didn’t care about: stories from millennia ago, the decline of Odin’s health, or some of the good Odin had accomplished during his rule. He forced himself to think of Frigga, to think of the outrage it would cause if he made a scene. That image in his mind helped ease his irritation. It helped make suffering through with a polite smile painted on his face bearable.

Every so often, he would look to Thor, seeing the same tension and agitation mirrored in him. Despite whatever Frigga may have felt, she remained caring and attentive to the countless court members and rulers that passed by to speak with her.

Just as he had decided that he would rather forfeit his newly regained title than receive one more sympathetic look (or an uneasy glance about his presence outside of a dungeon cell), Frigga made her way up the steps. She stood in front of the throne and addressed the room.

“Guests of this court, of Asgard and the nine and beyond the nine.” She nodded towards the left side of the room. He discreetly tried to find who she meant. He hadn’t noticed anyone not of the nine realms pass by him offering condolences. Eventually he managed to spot two figures with features not of any of the nine realms, one with dark pink skin and another with three eyes, but neither seemed to be in the direction Frigga had nodded.

“I thank you for joining us this evening. We are gathered to mourn Odin and to celebrate his life. He served Asgard and protected her, protected the nine, for longer than many of us have been alive. He led us in war and in peace, through change and through hardship.” Her voice rang out strong and bold and passionate, and despite his feelings towards Odin, he felt moved by Frigga. She was the Allmother in that moment, inspiring and comforting the people in a trying time. “To be Allfather is a daunting task, even for the best of us, and Odin carried the burden of the throne with dignity and ruled with justice. He was many things to me, to some of us, but above all, he was a good king.”

Frigga’s gaze snapped to Thor’s with a burning intensity.

“If you would join me outside, we will send Odin to the halls of Valhalla.”

Soft voices filled the air quickly, as people began to move towards the archways to the terrace outside. As he started to follow after Frigga, Thor pulled him close.

“I must speak with you,” he whispered, his breath warm on Loki’s ear.

“Now?” He breathed back. He was faintly worried for whatever had Thor distressed, but they were moments away from Odin’s rites, from the lit arrow, from his ascent to the stars, from his _sendoff_. A worse time didn’t exist.

After a brief pause, Thor seemed to realize what he had been thinking. “Not now. But after.”

Thor let him go, and he took a moment to study his face carefully. There was no fear, but there was worry. But there was no time to press for details or try to assuage Thor’s concerns. He simply nodded, before quickly catching up to Frigga, Thor close behind him.

The royal guard helped herd everyone outside, subtly ushering them where they needed to go.

A special platform had been erected at the water’s edge for a select few to see Odin one more time. Frigga, Thor, and Loki took a moment by Odin’s side to say their final goodbyes.

Odin laid in the boat, flowers woven into the space between him and the hull and around his head. Without the golden glow of the casket, Odin seemed pale. He didn’t look anywhere near as intimidating as Loki remembered him being.

A servant silently handed them each a golden rose. Thor laid his next to one of Odin’s hands, staring at his body for a moment. Loki touched a petal of the rose with his hand not holding the stem, and the flower slowly turned an inky black. He laid his rose at Odin’s other hand.

They both stepped back, giving Frigga the illusion of privacy as she approached the boat in the sight of the whole realm. Thor stepped close enough so his arm brushed Loki’s; Loki took the tiniest step closer. He felt a sob in his throat and resolutely smothered it. He hated himself for mourning. He hated Odin: for dying, for all the lies, for everything. He hated _feeling_.

He couldn’t bear to watch tears drip down Frigga’s cheeks or watch her place a gentle hand to Odin’s face, so he turned his gaze towards the crowds. They were a mass of black with patches of other dark colors thrown in. There were no whispers this time, just an eerie silence, as if they were all collectively holding their breaths.

Thor nudged him as Frigga stepped back, her rose laying across Odin’s chest. Heimdall and two members of the council that were good friends of Odin joined them on the platform. Heimdall handed Gungnir to Thor.

Thor stepped forwards, holding the spear out. Odin’s boat slid into the water and began its journey towards the edge of Asgard.

“Odin Allfather,” Thor’s voice rang out, firm and strong. As Loki and everyone else joined in, the words blurred into a chant, a prayer, creating an artificial echo because of all the voices.

_“I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla,_

_Where the brave shall live forever,_

_Nor shall we mourn but rejoice,_

_For those that have died a glorious death.”_

He couldn’t help but think there was nothing glorious about Odin’s death. He hadn’t died in combat. He hadn’t died defending or protecting anyone or anything. He had died of old age, of his own stubbornness, of his refusal to fall into Odinsleep.

An archer lit an arrow, aiming it towards the boat, nearly halfway to the edge of the realm now. But Frigga took an aborted step forwards, a strangled, “Wait!” falling from her lips.

The archer let the tension release on his bow, dropping the lit arrow on the ground next to him. He stepped on it, extinguishing the fire.

Heimdall exchanged a glance with Thor. The archer waited expectantly.

Frigga took a deep breath, a visible shake in her hand as she raised it. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly Odin’s boat was alight. She turned away, and Loki gathered her in his arms, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He held her tightly as he watched the boat reach the edge of Asgard.

Thor raised Gungir and let the end fall against the stone ground. What was left of the boat floated up into the air, the ashes glowing golden and scattering amongst the stars.

*

Late that evening, after all the guests had retired to their rooms, the servants slowly walking the halls of the palace once more, after darkness had firmly settled over the realm and the silence that only comes from the early hours of the morning filled the air, Thor finally came to seek him out.

“Loki?” His voice was quiet, as though he thought he might have been sleeping.

He tossed the papers he had been reading down on his desk and stood up slowly. “In here,” he called back.

He heard a few footsteps and then a heavy thud. Thor grumbled curses, making Loki let out an amused huff of air. He leaned against the doorframe, holding up a hand, casting a light into the room.

Thor slowly made his way towards Loki, rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. He wanted to tease him about losing his eyesight and coordination, but when he saw Thor all but collapse into the chair at his desk, he swallowed his words. Sitting in the light from the lamp by his desk, Thor looked _tired_.

He knew better than to ask how Thor was, if he needed anything. He was his brother, not his mother. So until he brought up whatever he had wanted to tell him just before Odin’s sendoff, he would do what he did best: hassle Thor.

“My rooms have been kept clean,” he started off benevolently, pretending to glance around the room. He affected a thoughtful look and added, “A bit of redecorating though.”

Thor frowned and looked over his shoulder, half-interested, trying to follow his gaze. “Oh?”

He waited until Thor looked at him again to gesture to the back of the chair. “I don’t believe that’s mine,” he drawled pointedly.

Thor ran his hand along the edge of the cloak – his cloak. He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

“You’ve been in my rooms. Touched my things.”

Thor didn’t meet his eyes. “You were gone.”

“And?” he demanded, crossing his arms, but keeping his tone light. “Were you gifted my rooms in my absence? Did you lose all sense of boundaries? I shudder to think of our poor mother if you need me around to keep you civil and well-mannered.”

“Well-mannered?” Thor repeated, incredulous. “ _You?_ Keep _me_ well mannered? I hardly remember that ever being the case.”

Loki walked past him, pulling the cloak from the back of the chair as he went. He settled himself on a sofa near his desk. “Perhaps not lately,” he conceded and tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “But when we were children, I was far better behaved.”

“I don’t recall it that way. Are you sure you remember it right?”

“I remember enough.” He closed his eyes, relaxing further into the cushions. Thor said nothing, and the silence rang in his ears. Belatedly, he realized what he had said, what his words implied. _I remember enough._ He wondered if Thor was thinking of Odin and favorites now as well. “Is that what you came here looking for?”

“Hmm?”

Loki cracked open one eye, finding Thor staring at his first dagger on his desk. “Memories. Did you come here to my rooms looking for memories?”

“Yes. No.” He sighed. “I suppose I came looking for you.”

Letting his eye fall shut again, he repressed a snort. “You came looking for what you wanted, who you wanted me to be.”

Thor started to protest, but he cut him off. “It’s fine. We’re brothers, Thor. We don’t have to like each other to be brothers.”

Thor was quiet for a long time. “Do you hate me?”

Loki opened his eyes, sitting up until he was leaning forwards towards him. His immediate answer was _yes_ but the look on Thor’s face… He shook his head. “You’re so serious about everything. You worry so much.” He shook his head again, readjusting himself so he was lying across the sofa, his head propped up on the armrest, facing Thor. “You were different decades ago. You were fun once. Exciting. But Midgard has changed you.”

“For the better,” Thor insisted.

“Parts of you are better.” He folded his hands across his stomach. “You’ve lost some of your temper and arrogance. But now you walk around with the weight of the worlds on your shoulders. You’re fighting battles that won’t matter in a decade, in a century. You talk of feelings, of…” He shook his head, trailing off.

“Do I hate you?” He repeated Thor’s earlier question. “Not now. Not today. But tomorrow? Perhaps. But it doesn’t matter, and you should know that.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand –”

“Listen,” he interrupted him, spreading Thor’s cloak across him like a blanket. “Tell me if you understand this. Say I come to you for aid. Would you fight beside me?”

Thor frowned. “Assuming whatever retribution coming for you isn’t deserved?”

For a fleeting moment he considered throwing a dagger at him. He settled instead for tossing a sharp look in Thor’s direction. “Yes,” he replied icily. “Assuming I’ve been ‘good’ and I’ve not offended any of your newfound morals.”

Thor sat back in his chair, tossing up his hands. “Of course I’d help you, but I hardly see how–”

“And I’d help you, if you came to me.” (Loki would later deny ever making such a statement.) “But say you asked me for this pillow.” He nudged the pillow near his legs on the end of the sofa nearest to Thor. “I’d say it’s desperately needed on this sofa just in the spot where it is now.”

“You’d fight with me across the nine but you wouldn’t give me a pillow you don’t need?”

Loki grinned, sharp and mischievous. “I would fight _against_ you for a pillow I don’t need.”

“Because we’re brothers?”

“Because we’re brothers.”

A terrible look crossed Thor’s face, one he had seen many times. It usually precipitated a particularly reckless adventure or foolish idea. In an instant, he had snatched the pillow from Loki’s feet along with the cloak he was using as a blanket. Thor retreated back a few steps before dropping the pillow. He laid down on the ground, head on the stolen pillow, the stolen blanket draped over him.

Loki swung his feet down, straightening so he was sitting up. _“You–”_

A raised finger from Thor stopped him. For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at him with a shit-eating grin, before explaining, “Because we’re brothers.”

Loki groaned and rolled his eyes, before changing his mind and shutting them completely. He collapsed back into the sofa, sliding down until he could hear Frigga’s voice in the back of his head reprimanding him about his posture. “I hate you.”

Thor laughed and laughed.

He was peeved, of course, but a small part of him was secretly pleased, not that he would ever tell him. The idiot had been worrying him. He hadn’t been taking Odin’s death well, and even before that, he truly did seem to be carrying the weight of all nine realms on his shoulders. He was happy to see Thor could still joke and laugh and smile, especially with the impending new title he had gained: Allfather.

Thor would need to stay in Asgard now, no more wandering the realms. Part of him wondered if Thor would ask or even demand he stay as well. He was grateful to no longer be a wanted criminal, and he was grateful to be a prince once again, but being prince meant responsibility as well as privilege. There was a time he hadn’t minded the responsibility, but now the thought of participating in the court seemed less appealing than ever. He didn’t know if he could stay in Asgard, where he was disliked, and run around the palace all day doing work he cared little for.

The sinking of the sofa cushions made his eyes snap open, directing his focus outwards instead of inwards. He moved from the middle of the sofa towards one end as Thor tried to squeeze all his limbs into the space between him and the other end.

“Thank you,” he said as he dropped the stolen pillow in Loki’s lap. He sighed. “Sometimes I forget… I forget many things. It’s easy for the past decade to overshadow the centuries before and…” He sighed again and ran a hand across his face. “I suppose… I need to be reminded sometimes of things I already know.”

The edge of Loki’s mouth twitched. “It’s the old age,” he quipped back immediately, almost purely on instinct.

Thor let the back of his head rest against the sofa with a groan. “I’m starting to think my age is the only thing you can find to insult.” Before Loki could protest that no, he had many flaws to insult, Thor was insisting petulantly, “And you’re only three decades younger than I am. It’s barely enough to count.”

He simply nodded, feigning agreement, knowing it would further irritate him. “Oh of course. Hardly long enough to count at all.”

When he stole the cloak back and Thor hardly even noticed, he decided he must finally be ready to discuss whatever was on his mind.

“Loki…” He said slowly, hesitantly. “There’s something… I haven’t told Frigga yet…”

“Out with it.”

He watched Thor’s knuckles turn white, his hands clenched in fists. He was surprised no electricity sparked off him from the tension alone. “Imrenouncingthethrone.”

Loki blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m renouncing the throne,” he repeated, his words less rushed all in one breath this time. “I don’t want to be Allfather – I can’t – and it’s not fair to the people or to me when I’m not fit to rule, and I don’t –”

“Not fit to rule?” Loki frowned. “We were both raised to sit on the throne. You are fit. You were raised, you were made for this purpose.”

Thor shook his head. “I know how to be king in my head but not in my heart. I’m a warrior, not a diplomat or a logician. I don’t want to rule. I don’t want to choose between – between being a king and being a good friend or brother or husband.” His eyes were wide, boring into Loki’s, begging him to understand. “I loved Odin, but I can’t follow in his footsteps. I won’t.”

Loki shook his head and then changed his mind and nodded. “Alright. Okay.”

“Okay?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Did you want me to talk you into it? What were you expecting?”

“No I – well I assumed you – well I – I don’t know.”

“I’d be lying if I said I thought ruling would suit you well.” He laughed at Thor’s unimpressed look. “Don’t mistake me, you would make a good king. But there are far more things that would suit you _better_ , I think, than ruling would.”

Thor raised his eyebrows, curious. “Oh? Such as?”

“Training young warriors. Exploring the realms.” He looked at Thor from the corner of his eye, begrudgingly admitting, “Fighting with your Avengers.”

He felt Thor’s feet nudge him. “I always knew you loved me.”

Because he wasn’t feeling particularly confrontational, he didn’t bring up Thor’s near midlife crisis over whether or not he hated him from earlier.

“You know what this means?”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not fighting with the mortals with you.”

Thor smiled, amused. “Idiot,” he huffed, ignoring Loki’s affronted glare. “This means the throne falls to _you_.”

 _Him. Allfather._ His eyes grew wide. _“Oh_. Yes.” He blinked, unseeingly. “I suppose it does.”

After an expectant pause, Thor added, “You don’t seem pleased.”

“I don’t know that I am.” When he was younger, he always saw himself on the throne, holding Gungnir, dressed in gold (and sometimes even wearing an eyepatch). Yet now… he couldn’t imagine himself there. For so long, ruling had been all he wanted, to rule and to make Odin proud, but he no longer wanted that. Just being around the court, around all the Asgardians who still looked at him like he was a criminal, a monster, a _Jotun_ , made his skin crawl.

All his life, he had never been good enough, never the chosen one. It felt wrong, to reach for a childhood dream he no longer wanted only because Thor had denied it. He would always be second choice, the black sheep of Asgard. He had no doubt that he could rule (he had been raised beside Thor, after all), but no matter the good he did or the favor he incurred with the people, in the back of their minds, they would always know he wasn’t meant to inherit the throne, wasn’t meant to sit on it. And any failings, any mistakes he made would be what he was remembered for.

He was many things, and he could become many more, but he knew the most important ones to everyone else would always be that he was a criminal and not of Asgard.

“Loki?” Thor prompted him, after he had fallen silent for far too long.

He turned to look at his brother, wide-eyed and breathless. A bolt of panic ran through him at the thought of living in Asgard, in the palace for the next few millennia, dealing with the court and Asgard constantly watching him, waiting for him to fail, all the while knowing he didn’t belong. “I can’t,” he whispered, reaching out to grab him instinctively. “Not now, not after –” He cut himself off abruptly, unable to voice the words. _Not after I fell. Not after they know what I am._ “Thor I – I can’t!” Both his hands had found their way to Thor’s chest somehow, holding onto his tunic with an iron grip. “Thor _please_ –”

Thor’s expression turned from confusion to concern, but after he pulled him to his chest, he couldn’t see what followed next. “The throne –”

“ _I can’t!”_ The lights in the room abruptly went out, plunging them both into darkness.

“Loki!” Thor implored him, one arm keeping him close while the other left his back. After a second, he felt the cloak settle on his shoulders and be wrapped around him. It wasn’t until Thor held him tighter that he realized he was shaking. “You don’t have to become Allfather.”

He took in a shuddering breath before slowly letting it out. “I don’t know why – I – I’m so – so upset.”

Thor shushed him. “Breathe with me,” he instructed, taking exaggerated breaths for him to follow along with. They breathed in and out together. In and out. Sometimes he would suck in a breath too quickly, a tendril of sheer panic once again resurfacing from nowhere, but Thor would squeeze him and continue breathing.

“Just listen,” Thor started softly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrating in his chest. It was soothing. “You’re having an attack. Stark has similar ones. Keep breathing with me.”

Loki nodded against his shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. He was completely exhausted.

“We will find someone to protect Asgard. Frigga will help and Heimdall and the court. You needn’t take the throne in my place.” He shifted so Loki laid more comfortably against his side. “I know Odin’s death is difficult for you. Odin was… hard. But he was our father. I can’t pretend to know how you feel, to understand everything between you, but you must mourn him, Loki. To deny your feelings and deny your grief because a part of you hated him…” He sighed. “I know part of you loved him, as part of me did. It’s okay to grieve. It doesn’t change what he’s done.”

Loki found he was too tired to argue.

“You hold so much resentment,” Thor whispered. “I wish…” He sighed and was quiet for a long time. If he ever finished saying what he wanted, Loki missed it. He slept soundly until morning.

*

“Thank you for joining us,” Frigga said pointedly, a knowing look in her eye. She let them both feel the weight of her stare before switching from mother to Allmother. She gestured that they take a seat.

Loki belatedly realized the other members of the council and Heimdall were already present; he and Thor were late. They both took their seats wordlessly, sitting up rigidly straight, lest they further upset Frigga.

“I’ve summoned you all to discuss succession. Thor,” she glanced at him briefly, “is Allfather, but we have yet to hold the official ceremony, which will be this afternoon. If there will be any other appointments or promotions made, those should be announced at the ceremony.” She folded her hands and set them on the desk in front of her. “If you wish to change the line of succession, Thor, you must appoint an heir.”

Loki bristled, but it was Thor who demanded, “Why would I appoint an heir? Loki is a prince. He would take the throne if–” Thor cut himself off, exchanging a glance with Loki, fully aware that neither of them planned on accepting the throne. “He is perfectly capable of ruling,” he finished awkwardly.

A council member spoke up, “Of course, but Loki’s heritage… To have another race sit on the throne of Asgard…”

“I’m only half Aesir,” Thor answered evenly, giving the councilman an unimpressed look. The accusation was clear in his tone. “My mother is from Vanaheim.”

“We understand,” a different council member jumped in, when the first councilman seemed at a loss for words. “But Loki’s crimes…”

“And what of _my_ crimes? Would you deny me my birthright, as you deny Loki his?”

A councilwoman immediately responded, _“Your_ crimes are an issue of great importance as well. I am not convinced either prince is ready to sit on Asgard’s throne.” Shocked faces turned to her. “All due respect, Allfather,” she inclined her head towards Thor, “but you both tried to destroy Jotunheim. You both wreaked havoc on Midgard.” Thor started to protest, but she didn’t allow him to interrupt her. “Perhaps you did not intend what occurred on Midgard, but it happened all the same. You were foolish and arrogant, and your banishment has inevitably opened Midgard to the nine, and they are not ready for what lies beyond their realm.”

An elderly councilman tapped his cane against the ground. “I agree. Lady Valda is correct.”

All at once, everyone began voicing their own opinions, and the volume in the room rapidly grew. The councilmembers argued with and over top of each other, with Thor and Loki both interjecting when something particularly unintelligent was said. Frigga’s face remained even and pensive, but her gaze was sharp.

“Enough!” Heimdall declared, standing from his seat. “We are the highest authority in the nine, not a room full of crying children.” When everyone leaned back in their chairs, sufficiently shamed, he continued. “Thor _is_ our Allfather. Odin named him crown prince, and we will respect that decision. If you are incapable of serving alongside our young, new king, I suggest you step down so other competent members can be appointed to the council.” He glanced around once more, before adding ominously, “Bear in mind, the eyes of the Gatekeeper and the Allfather see all. I need not remind any of you the punishment for treason.”

An awkward silence hung in the air. No one moved; they scarcely breathed. Heimdall sat down again.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” Thor said quietly. He cleared his throat and spoke a bit louder. “I appreciate the care each of you have for Asgard, even if I do not appreciate your opinions about me. However… you need not worry.” He took a deep breath. “I’m renouncing my claim to the throne.”

Cries of outrage and shock filled the room, but Thor silenced them with a raised hand. “It would appear a few of you will approve of my decision anyway, but I will not be persuaded otherwise. I am a warrior, a prince, at heart, not a king. Becoming Allfather is neither in my best interests nor Asgard’s.” There was a weighty silence, and Thor risked a glance at Frigga. “…Mother?” He asked hesitantly.

She pressed her lips together and looked to Loki. “Then the throne falls to you.”

For a moment, he let everyone consider the situation before grinning. “You scare the council, mother.” He laughed at the expression of horror on the eldest councilman’s face in particular. “You won’t have to worry about appearances and politics. I have no plans to claim the throne either.”

Frigga merely nodded, her face still giving nothing away. He could practically feel the tension radiating off Thor, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about Frigga’s opinion of their choices himself.

Lady Valda asked, “Then who will become Allfather?”

Thor glanced at Loki. “I was thinking Heimdall.” He nodded his agreement, knowing Thor wanted it.

Heimdall turned a faintly surprised look on Thor. “Are you certain?”

Thor glanced at Frigga, who inclined her head in agreement as well.

“I’m certain.”

Heimdall glanced at the other council members. “And what of the council?”

The eldest councilman was the first to speak. “Nothing like this ever happened in the old days.” Loki’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Thor out of the corner of his eye. Part of him hoped a fight was about to break out, but another part of him knew it could be the pulled thread that unraveled the already fragile transfer of power. “But I suppose change is inevitable.” The councilman gave a rueful sigh. “May as well let him have a go of it.” He glanced at Heimdall and smiled wryly.

“I don’t think we could have asked for anyone better. Heimdall has served Asgard well for centuries as Gatekeeper. I see no reason he should not serve us now as Allfather.” Lady Valda’s tone was firm, and the three remaining council members each nodded their agreement.

Thor beamed and clapped Heimdall on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Allfather.”

“It is an honor.” Loki swore he saw a blush darken Heimdall’s cheeks, and that was a once in a lifetime sight.

“What of you and Loki? Do you plan to join the council?”

Thor grinned sheepishly at Heimdall’s questions. “Yes. Well. I had thought perhaps we might simply… remain princes?”

Loki shot Thor an incredulous look but said nothing.

Heimdall tilted his head. “Are you staying on Asgard?”

“…No…” He turned from Heimdall to Loki, whose wide-eyed look told him he would be of no help. “I’m returning to Midgard.”

“What of you, Loki?”

He straightened his shoulders slightly at being addressed. “While I appreciate the return of my freedom and title… I had not planned to stay on Asgard.”

Heimdall’s gaze was sharp. “And your loyalty?”

For a moment, he considered lying, but somehow he knew Heimdall would be able to tell. (Nevermind that Heimdall would hardly believe him if he declared loyalty to the throne.) “To myself.” He resolutely did not look at either Thor or Frigga, keeping his eyes firmly on Heimdall. “To my family. To Asgard.”

“In that order?”

He simply held his gaze, making no further response.

Heimdall sighed. “And where do your loyalties lie, Thor?”

“To Asgard. To Midgard. To those I love.”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow. “In that order?”

Thor blinked, frowning. He opened his mouth and shut it again. Loki wondered if it was because he didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

Heimdall was quiet a moment, a pensive look on his face. Although, Loki thought he always looked pensive. “Would you both fight, should Asgard have need of you?” They nodded. “Would you come, should you be summoned?” They nodded again, Loki begrudgingly. Heimdall waved a hand dismissively. “Very well. Keep your titles.”

Heimdall then preceeded to speak to the council of their responsibilities. Each council member agreed to serve under Heimdall and remain on the council. The details of the coronation – now Heimdall’s instead of Thor’s – were ironed out, and a speech was planned for how they would announce the change. Several people were proposed as a new Gatekeeper, and, barring their approval, they would trial the job to see who best fit. In the end, Thor was talked into being crown prince, the next in line should something happen to Heimdall. It had taken some persuasion, but eventually the council had won him to their side. They argued he could make the same decision he had now and appoint another Allfather, or perhaps he would change his mind in a millennia or two and accept the throne when Heimdall died.

As everyone stood from their chairs and began to leave, Frigga called for Thor and Loki to stay behind. Heimdall shut the door as he followed the council out.

“You overslept.”

Loki held himself perfectly rigid, silently terrified of what Frigga would say about their decisions. Thor looked away from her gaze.

“Did you at least sleep well?” She demanded when neither responded.

Loki thought back to the late hours of the morning. He remembered waking in his bed to Thor’s snores and his body laid across Loki’s, nearly crushing him. How Thor managed to sleep sideways across the bed and comfortably across him, he would never know. How they managed to even get in the bed in the first place, he could only guess at.

“Yes, mother,” Thor answered dutifully. Loki found himself absently echoing the words.

Her mothering stare melted away into a smile. “Neither one of you ever could lie to me. But I do wish you had arrived on time and looked slightly less… disheveled.”

Loki looked down at his clothes, only now realizing he had somehow ended up in one of Thor’s shirts. It was a bit too wide and a bit too short. _Norns, how many clothes does Thor have in my rooms?_ Thor’s hair was sticking up in the back – and _Odin’s beard_ , his probably was too – and he was almost certain Thor’s pants were not meant to be worn for anything besides sleep.

Frigga sighed. “But no matter. The council watched you grow up; I’m sure they’re used to your antics.”

“What of our antics?” Loki asked, careful to keep the tremble in his fingers from entering his voice. “Do you approve?”

A crease formed between her eyebrows before smoothing out again. “Appro – _oh_. The throne?”

Thor nodded. Loki held his breath.

She smiled, sighing in amusement. “My precious boys. Of course I do.”

“You _do_ approve?” Loki questioned, surprised.

“Why would I not?” At their blank stares, she explained, “I told you both I did not want you to be forced to choose between being a good king and being anything else.”

They both started speaking over each other at once.

“I thought you might – ”

“– honor Odin’s memory – ”

“ – our family’s birthright – ”

“ – traditions, and it’s never been done – ”

“ – following in his footsteps – ”

“– we’ve both done it.”

Frigga gave them a pointed look.

Thor nodded to Loki, who spoke first. “I assumed you would have us honor Odin’s memory by following his wishes and the traditions, and it’s never been done before, renouncing the throne. And now we’ve both done it.”

Then Thor added, “I thought you might expect us to claim the throne, as is our family’s birthright, and make father proud by following in his footsteps and protecting Asgard.”

She shook her head. “You can honor your father and protect Asgard in countless ways besides sitting on the throne.”

“Is it what he would have wanted?”

She considered the question for a moment before saying gently, “No, I don’t think it is, Thor. But it’s what you want. And I’m proud of your decision; it’s what I want for you.” She laid a hand on his cheek, stroking her thumb across it as if the gesture could erase Thor’s frown. “I loved Odin dearly. You understand that. But he was wrong sometimes. And I think far too often he was wrong about both of you.” She let her hand drop and reached for Loki. He let himself be hugged. “Odin was a good king, and he protected and loved Asgard. I only wish being a good king hadn’t conflicted so often with being a good father.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s so much I wish I could change.”

“What will you do now?”

Frigga let Loki go, beckoning them both to follow her out of the room. She took a moment before answering Thor’s question. “You’re both wandering the realms – which I approve of,” she qualified quickly, throwing a glance at them over her shoulder. They trailed after her down the hallway. “You’re both so young still… You need to see the worlds. But I’m old.” She stepped out of the hallway to the terrace under the arches. She turned her back to the gardens beyond to face them both. “A long time ago, my home was Vanaheim. And now with Odin gone…”

Thor’s eyes widened. _“Frigga.”_

“What?” Loki demanded, furious he hadn’t caught on. _“What?”_

“I’m leaving Asgard. I’m returning with Freya to Vanaheim.”

It was Loki’s turn to be surprised. “What? But this – this is your home!”

“But Vanaheim is my home too,” she told him gently. “I miss my sister, my niece, and my nephews. I miss my childhood home, my friends from centuries ago.” She laughed softly. “My sons, you both look as if to cry. Come now, you can still visit me just as often on Vanaheim as you might have here.”

“I’m not going to cry,” Thor declared stubbornly, and Loki told himself the arm he put around his shoulders was solely for Thor’s support (because he himself was certainly not going to cry and needed no such support).

“This is just a bit… sudden. I wasn’t expecting such a change.” His voice sounded strangled.

“You both carry on like you’re distressed, but neither one of you would even notice my absence here,” Frigga teased them warmly. “You never come to see your poor mother anyway.”

“I’m happy for you,” Thor declared in the same stubborn voice as before. “We’re happy for you.”

“Frigga!” They all looked towards the garden where Freya called from a distance.

Frigga waved her off. “Thank you,” she said, turning back to them. “I’m proud of you both.”

“Mother,” Loki stopped her from leaving just yet. He tried his best to smile without showing any of the emotion he felt, but somehow he knew Frigga saw it. She always saw through him. “We’ll come visit you. I promise.”

“I’ll have tea waiting.”

It warmed Loki’s heart slightly, to see the swish of Frigga’s skirts as she nearly skipped to Freya. He could see how much she wanted this, how happy it made her. And so he decided he could learn to live with her choice.

Thor’s face was terribly even, like he was making certain to keep his expression level. Which is why Loki murmured, “It’s always the tea. Always. She _knows_ we hate it, and then she wonders why we never visit.”

Thor laughed and slung his arm across Loki’s back. “I’m telling her you said that.”

He blinked out of existence, letting Thor’s arm fall through the air. He teleported to Thor’s other side, grabbing the back of Thor’s cloak and _pulling_. Thor stumbled back a step. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Thor looked at Loki, his expression mostly shock with a hint of hurt. For a moment, Loki’s heart clenched. He had wanted to cheer Thor up and now –

Thor’s face erupted into a wide grin and he took off running into the garden shouting, “Frigga! Frigga! You’ll never guess –”

Loki took a moment to sigh and silently curse the Norns before chasing after him. One of these days he really would get around to killing Thor.

*

Loki watched Thor say goodbye to a few court members and the Warriors Three. Sif hugged Thor tightly, whispering something. He was almost certain Volstagg was crying.

A handful of court members came to talk to him, two of whom he actually liked. But it was his goodbye to Frigga that was the hardest. She had cried and hugged both him and Thor for a long time.

But he had promised to visit, and he would. He had been away from Asgard and away from her before and survived, after all. (But telling himself that didn’t make it any easier to leave.)

Both Loki and Thor gave shallow bows to Heimdall, careful to keep their goodbyes respectful and formal, should any of the court be watching or listening (and they always were). Heimdall had given them his patented stare, as if he could read their thoughts and could see straight to their souls. But he had nodded once and merely said, “Prince Thor. Prince Loki. Be well.”

Despite all the mischief he had thwarted over the years, Heimdall had a certain charm in his own way. Loki wouldn’t go so far as to say he liked him… but he held a certain attachment for him. Heimdall was unique. And Loki found, after some consideration, he thought Heimdall would make a far better king than he or Thor ever could.

And as quickly as they had started, the goodbyes were over. Loki and Thor made their way to the Bifrost, and one of the royal guard who was temporarily Gatekeeper sent them to the middle of nowhere in the Midgardian nation of Canada.

Thor turned to him, shuffling his feet. “Well. I suppose this is it.”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “It?”

“A Midgardian phrase.” He shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to say.”

Loki frowned. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well. Remember to visit mother. We did promise her.”

Thor nodded. “I – Loki?” He paused, waiting until he motioned for him to continue. “Where are you going?” At his blank look, he asked, “Are you staying on Midgard?”

Loki tilted his head to one side. “Perhaps.”

“It’s – I thought – if you were staying that is – with Odin’s death and all – I mean –”

“Spit it out,” Loki coaxed him.

“Would you want to stay with me?” Thor forced the words out, looking as if he already knew what Loki’s answer would be. “We did live together for a millennia and I thought perhaps you…” He sighed and shook his head. “I thought perhaps _we_ could both use the…” He trailed off, either unable or unwilling to name what he meant. _Familiarity. Comfort. Care._

Loki rolled his eyes. “Thor, you are the most idiotic fool in all the realms if you believe for a moment that I would stay with you.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. “Yes,” he said resigned, his voice not much more than a whisper. “I had thought as much.”

“Your Avengers would hardly enjoy my presence, and I don’t think I could tolerate theirs.” He sniffed, letting his tone turn mocking, carefully watching Thor’s reaction. “No, it simply wouldn’t work. I suppose _you_ will have to stay with _me.”_

“Yes, I – _what?”_

He laughed at the incredulous look on Thor’s face, the way his eyes shone with an eager hope. He shrugged. “If I don’t let you stay with me, how will you ever manage to dress yourself, let alone survive?”

Thor’s expression turned stormy. “I – _you_ – you made me think – I can dress myself!”

“Tell me, brother mine, did your Avengers aid you with your clothing? It would explain the constant sorry state of your cape.”

“Why must you play tricks on me? You are _cruel.”_

Loki’s smile faltered. A tendril of fear wrapped around his heart and squeezed. If looks could kill, he might have been dead. In a tone that was pure venom, Thor swore, _“I hate you.”_

But then Thor was smiling and then laughing, nearly falling over. “Oh, your face.”

“I’ll kill you,” was Loki’s deadpan, immediate reply.

Thor gave a long sigh once his giggles subsided. “Oh, you’re simply… the worst.”

Loki threw up his hands. “That’s enough. Offer rescinded. Go live with your Avengers.”

“Then whose clothes would you steal?” Thor scoffed.

His eyes narrowed, and Loki pointed an accusing finger at him. “And how did your shirt end up in my room? And your cloak? What else have you stored there? Were you _living_ out of my rooms when I was away?”

Thor squinted dramatically, as if trying to remember. “Hmm. Difficult to say. I don’t recall.”

“I’m certain you were dropped on your head as a child. Repeatedly.”

“At least I was not beaten with the ugly stick.”

“The _what?”_

“It’s another Midgardian – ”

“Oh just shut up and take my hand before I change my mind.”

Thor took Loki’s outstretched arm with a grin. “You love me.”

“I don’t.”

The world around them dissolved into light, and then they appeared in Loki’s hideaway.

“You love me.”

Loki tore his forearm from Thor’s grasp. “I hate you.”

“And I _hate_ you too.” Thor’s arms were around him in a second, and he felt himself squeezed and picked up from the ground.

He swore curses and flailed in Thor’s grasp, not bothering to hide his content smile, knowing Thor couldn’t see it. (But somehow he thought Thor knew anyway.)


End file.
